Let’s get the hard part over with: talking about pain makes people uncomfortable. And talking about chronic pain makes people really uncomfortable. Chaz Cardigan’s A Year In Glassland isn’t a record about pain; it’s a record about being a person who has pain.
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chase petra, sydney sprague, and pool kids at the echo - 7/15/23
I’ve been in Los Angeles for seven and a half weeks now, and still every time I walk around my own neighborhood, or a new part of the city, I get this crazy realization that I actually live here. I’m having so much fun learning my way around my neighborhood, trying new vegan restaurants, meeting new people, and spending time with friends.
The first show I photographed since the move was on July 7: Sam MacPherson and Ruel at the Shrine, next to the USC campus (fun fact: I almost went to USC! It’s wild to think how differently my life could’ve turned out if I had - but hey, here I am anyway!). I had previously been to the Shrine a decade ago, while on tour with PETA and Steve Aoki - I definitely had some flashbacks while waiting in line! Just over a week later, I headed to The Echo in Echo Park. I’d been to The Echoplex years ago (on another tour with PETA, I caught a show there on a night off) but never to The Echo itself.
I arrived early to take portraits of Chase Petra (blog post with those photos coming soon!); with plenty of time to go before doors, I grabbed some pizza next door to the venue (it was super good - really nice, fresh tasting tomato sauce - but I wished I’d ordered a second slice!), and spent some time wandering around a bookstore and a thrift shop and talking to the other folks waiting for the show.
The Echo does not have a photo pit, and the lighting was also… not great. The show was sold-out, too. So my still-pretty-new camera and I were in for a challenge. Chase Petra was up first; I started near the corner of stage left, before making my way around to the other side and then back again. I increased my ISO and played around with shutter speed, and ultimately decided to do the whole photo set in black and white. This way, all my focus could go to capturing the moments I wanted to capture - even if the colors of the lights weren’t flattering. a
By the way, Chase Petra may have been the first act of the night - but that didn’t stop the crowd from cheering for an encore.
Sydney Sprague was up next. I didn’t take as many photos of her set; the crowd was intense (in the best way!), and I needed a breather and also some water. So, after I got a few shots, I filled up my water bottle and sat down to watch the rest of her set.
Finally, Pool Kids closed out the night and holy shit, I knew they would rock, but they put on such a good show. I’d known Andy Anaya since the days of You Blew It! (RIP, btw), and it was great to see him again. (It’s so fun for me to catch up with people as they ask about the move and how I’m liking LA - honestly, I’m thriving and couldn’t be happier that I’m here). Pool Kids put on the kind of show that it didn’t matter if you knew their songs or not; you’d be having a blast either way because that energy was off the walls. (As were the crowdsurfers.)
At shows like this without a barricade, I usually shoot the first three songs or so; depending on the room and depending on the photos I captured in the first three songs, I may go in for a few more shots. Pool Kids had everyone pull out their phones to light up the room towards the end of the set, and you know I had to get a photo of that.
I wanted to share two, non-photo related things I really enjoyed about this show:
The crowd went OFF for all three artists! You know how most shows, the crowd goes OFF for the headliner, but not so much for the openers? (Or there are the rare shows where the crowd goes OFF for one of the openers, but doesn’t seem to care about the headlining act?) That was not the case here. The energy was on 10 all night.
Gender diversity in ALL THREE ARTISTS! When I started photographing shows and interviewing artists in 2011, it was a Big Deal to me if there was ONE single woman on stage in a three-act show. Have I mentioned that Genevieve, the guitarist of Chase Petra, absolutely SHREDDED? Because she did, and that was SO COOL. I saw so little representation of women on stages when I started out, and it makes me so, so happy to see that happening more now. Here’s to even more in the future.
CARRY IT WITH YOU: on walk the moon
Too loud; too quiet. Too sensitive; too harsh. Too anxious and restless; too depressed and lazy. Too this, too that – too much, too much, too much. I’ve been called all of these things, and it’s true - I am A Lot. It turns out I have ADHD, but I didn’t learn this until not quite 2 years ago – so for the first three decades of my life, I was plagued by the knowledge that I was, indeed, Too Much.
I was drawn to Walk The Moon’s music because everything about it, like everything about me, screamed “too much.” With Walk The Moon, “too much” wasn’t a bad thing – it was celebrated. Here, there was no being stuck in your head with worry – here, you’re pulled out of your head and into your body to enjoy, life, feel the moment. Their music makes me feel like I’m on top of the world, even in life’s dark moments.
Walk The Moon recently announced their hibernation, and I’ve been feeling sentimental as I think about so many wonderful memories I have around them and their music. How they’ve made me feel like I could fly when I wasn’t sure I could walk. How they’ve made me feel like being “too much” isn’t a problem – it’s something to celebrate. Below, read through some of my favorite Walk The Moon memories.
Sometime in the fall of 2014 – I’m driving through the suburban NJ town I grew up in with the radio on (my car at the time didn’t have a working CD player, nor did it have a place to plug in an aux cord – so radio it was), and I hear “Shut Up and Dance” for the first time. Wait a minute – Walk The Moon, isn’t that the band with that “Anna Sun” song? I look it up when I get home – it is. I listen to Talking Is Hard on repeat; it’s catchy, it’s upbeat, but I’m not sure I get it.
April 2015 – I get an email with a last-minute confirmation: I have a ticket and photo pass to photograph Walk The Moon at Terminal 5 in New York City! I had no idea what a treat I was in for when I walked into the venue that night. As a photographer, I love the vibrant lights on stage; as a writer and a human, I love the stories vocalist Nick Petricca tells between songs. In particular, the meditation before “I Can Lift A Car” grabs me – it gives me a sense of ecstatic joy and makes me feel powerful, like I could do anything. I get it now: I walk out carrying with me a sense of peace and magical energy, and a comfort that it’s okay to be weird. I walk out a Walk The Moon fan for life.
January 2016 – I’m packing my bags to leave for tour – four months on the road, driving across the country and back again - and as I’m getting ready, I make a “driving” playlist on Spotify. I choose songs I knew I’d never skip, songs that could fit any mood. I put the entirety of Walk The Moon and Talking Is Hard on there, and wonder if my tour mates are familiar.
May 2016 – We’re in Long Beach, California and tour is nearly over. I’m driving the van and by chance, just as I turn onto the Pacific Coast Highway – craning my neck, wondering when I’ll get a glimpse of the ocean – “Anna Sun” comes on. I hadn’t queued it up, but I guess Spotify’s randomization is on my side; everything is beautiful and everything is perfect.
June 2016 – My brother and I are traveling through Thailand together; he’s just finished teaching English, and I’ve just finished my spring tour. I’m fascinated by how different everything is from anything I’ve ever seen; overwhelmed in the most positive way at the realization of just how far from home I am. We ride a moped from Kanchanaburi to Erawan falls; we stop to eat som tam (papaya salad) that’s impossibly spicy. I listen to “Anna Sun” as we watch the sunset over the water in Koh Samui. On an overnight bus traveling to yet another town, I fall asleep listening to “Iscariot.”
September 2017 – It’s here, it’s here, it’s here. Walk The Moon releases “One Foot”, the first taste of What If Nothing – and my first time hearing new Walk The Moon music as a diehard fan. I read the press release and I’m already enthralled at the concept of this album. I watch the video and decide I need to visit Joshua Tree someday. I send the video to my boss, a big Talking Heads fan; “I like Walk The Moon!”, he tells me.
October 2017 – I feel a ball of nerves building as I email Walk The Moon’s publicist: I’d like to write a review of What If Nothing; would it be possible to receive an advance copy? She responds promptly that she’ll send me the advance the week before the album release; I agree to publish my review the week of release.
November 2017 – On a Friday, I arrive in Dallas, Texas for a conference, where I meet an internet friend for lunch. When I get to my hotel room, I see an exciting email: the advance copy of What If Nothing is waiting for me in my inbox. I listen while I get ready for the night’s networking event; I tear up when I hear “Tiger Teeth.” I listen again and take notes for my review. On Saturday, I listen again in between conference events, and begin drafting my review. On Sunday, life takes me on an unexpected ride and I’m back in Deep Ellum, getting a tattoo for an album that won’t be released for six more days. On Sunday night, I cry again to “Tiger Teeth.” On Monday, I finish my review while stuck in the Minneapolis airport on my way home.
January 2018 – It’s a frigid day in New York and I’m bundled up in my winter coat as I make the short walk from Penn Station to the Hammerstein Ballroom. Once inside, I head downstairs to the bathroom, where I make friends with a few girls who are doing their face paint. I ask if they mind if I take some photos; they agree, and we exchange Instagram handles. I head up towards the photo pit where I see some friends. I knew the show would be special, and it’s just as magical as I’d hoped.
Later in January 2018 – I’m so proud of the photos from the Hammerstein Ballroom show; I debate ordering a canvas or maybe a framed print with my favorite photo of the evening. Instead, I order this custom woven blanket.
April 2018 – Anxiety is hitting me hard. I try and I try but I can’t keep from ruminating; I think of Nick’s passion for yoga, and wonder if it would help me. I start seeing a therapist and I begin practicing yoga at home – once or twice a week at first. I have no idea if it’s helping, but I keep doing it.
June 2018 – Walk The Moon is on tour opening for 30 Seconds To Mars. At the last minute, I buy a pair of tickets to the show at Madison Square Garden, in the nosebleeds; no one wanted to come with me. I force myself to stay off my phone, save for a quick photo and video of the band; the thought of facing the truth (and the heartbreak that’d surely instill) made me sick. I leave after their set to get dinner from a vegan restaurant I like. The next day, they’re playing at PNC Bank Arts Center in Holmdel, New Jersey. I’d bought a (more expensive) ticket for that one, just a few rows from the stage. I was spiraling, sick at the truth in front of me, and had a panic attack when I got to my seat – sobbing, crying, hyperventilating. One of the ushers brings me a water bottle and some paper towels to use as tissues. When Walk The Moon comes on, I feel like I can breathe again. I’m able to pull myself out of my head and into my body, as Nick would say.
September 2018 – My heart is broken. It had been slowly chipped at for nearly a year and finally, there it was – smashed, shattered, beaten into smithereens. I listen to What If Nothing on repeat, in hopes I can make some sense of the sadness in my heart and the unknown ahead of me. I wonder if I’ll ever get through this pain, if I’ll ever be the same.
Later in September 2018 – I haven’t been able to sleep in a week; every muscle in my body is tense. I make myself dinner and it’s a toss-up whether I can eat more than a bite or two. I decide that I need to make yoga more of a routine and commit to doing it a few times a week.
October 2018 – A friend is hosting a Halloween Party; I decide to dress up as “Walk The Moon”. I wore a “Walk The Moon-inspired” outfit, copied Nick’s face paint from the “Anna Sun” video, and carried around a cardboard “moon” on a dog leash. My friend pulls me aside shortly after I arrive to ask how I’m doing; I tell her the angry version of the story. The sadness lays deeper inside me. I eat pizza, cookies, chips (thank god I have an appetite, at least). My costume is a hit.
December 2018 – I find myself at an ecstatic dance party in Amsterdam. The whole concept of ecstatic dance seems very WTM-esque, if you will; I put on some face paint before I go. A very, very handsome man starts dancing with me; I can’t bear the thought of dancing with anyone that isn’t that one, and I leave the event in tears. I get fries on my way back to my hostel; I never cry about that one again.
January 2019 – I’m learning to breathe again, starting to see some light. I commit to doing yoga every day. With oddly perfect timing, Walk The Moon releases “Timebomb”: “when your heart opens, it’s like I’m ready to fall again.” I’m able to see that I’ll get there, too.
February 2019 – I drive to New Haven, Connecticut, where I meet up with an internet friend to do our face paint. We sit in a Starbucks near the venue and discuss what might be on the set list. They play “Tiger Teeth”; I cry through the whole song. My friend tells me she’s going to stay late to try and meet the members of the band, and invites me to join her. We wait outside the venue when I realize I don’t have anything for them to sign (my ticket was digital). Another fan is there with her boyfriend; he had printed out his ticket, and happily gives it to me. I ask Eli what I’d have to do to hear “Iscariot” live (he tells me: “go to a show in 2013”; I laugh and groan). We wait a long while to meet Nick; my feet are freezing in my boots. I tell Nick that I cried during “Tiger Teeth”; he puts his hand on my heart and says, “thank you for sharing that.”
Later in February 2019 – I’m on a roll with my writing and photography career! I take a half-day from my day job, and take the train into New York City to head to a record label office where I’ll interview two artists I’m really excited about. While waiting on the subway platform, I listen to Talking Is Hard. And I dance. I’m dancing on the subway platform again; my heart is healing.
April 2020 – Nick goes Live on Instagram and asks for requests. I comment “The Liftaway”; he plays the intro and first few lines. Okay, it’s not the full song – but it’s enough to get me excited.
November 2021 – Out of nowhere, my knee pain gets bad. I go to orthopedic urgent care in the suburbs, then get an MRI downtown. Heights comes out; I listen for the first time on the way to my follow-up appointment with the orthopedist. I’m scared; I don’t know if it’s worse to hear “you need surgery” or “you’re not a candidate for surgery.” This album helps me make sense of the unknown, and feel okay with it.
November 2022 – Walk The Moon are on tour celebrating the tenth anniversary of their self-titled album; they livestream the show in New York. I live in Philadelphia now, and I’m struggling hard with frequent migraine attacks, orthostatic intolerance, and intense fatigue; I can’t even dream of making the trip to be there in person, but I watch the livestream while eating Chinese food on my couch. I get up and dance a few times. They play “The Liftaway” (the whole song!), and I shriek in excitement.
Later in November 2022 – It’s Thanksgiving Day; I’m in Los Angeles for the holiday. I start my day by taking a yoga class on the beach in Santa Monica. Making small talk with the gentleman next to me, I mention Walk The Moon and Nick’s studio, Kundalini Yoga By The Sea. I tell him about how meditative a Walk The Moon show is; we talk also about EDM and how a rave can be its own form of meditation. After class, I drive in my rental car up the Pacific Coast Highway and blast “Anna Sun” – on purpose this time, and it’s just as magical.
June 2023 – I move to Los Angeles; two days after I land, I borrow my brother’s car and – again – drive up the Pacific Coast Highway blasting Walk The Moon. My dog is snug in his carrier next to me. I can’t believe how beautiful the view it is, and how close it is – because I live here now.
July 2023 – Walk The Moon announces their hibernation. I’m deeply sad – this band has given so much to me, and it aches to know there won’t be a tour or new record any time soon. I’m grateful, though, for all they’ve given me. I make an Instagram post; shortly after, full of words to say, I begin writing this blog post.
live: morgxn at voltage lounge - 10/2/18
live: good charlotte at sherman theater- 5/16/17
Since I started photographing live music six years ago, I've been able to photograph so many artists I never thought I'd get to photograph, and many of my long-time favorites as well. Good Charlotte has been my favorite band since I was 11; I loved shooting them on Warped Tour last summer and was excited when I saw they'd be stopping at one of my favorite venues, the Sherman Theater in Stroudsburg, Penn.
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